She followed him into the main greenhouse, warm and humid after the cool spring night. Exotic plants bloomed everywhere she looked, a riot of pinks, reds, oranges, and purples. The air hung heavy with the scent of earth and green things growing. Faith took a deep breath. Underneath the smell of gardening soil, a dozen different perfumes tickled her nose.
"Wow," she whispered.
"You've never been here, have you?" Kyle's eyes sparkled, and he seemed pleased by her reaction.
"No. I missed the field trip in third grade." She turned, taking it all in. "It's beautiful."
"This isn't even the best part." He squeezed her hand, and heat climbed the back of her neck. "Over here."
"Over here" turned out to be a small lawn lining a huge bed of azaleas in spring colors of pink, lavender, and white. A white blanket was spread out on the grass next to a picnic basket.
A whole host of butterflies took flight in her stomach. "How did you do all this?"
"Like I said, I know a guy." Kyle's cocky smile was back. "Well, more than one."
Faith sank down on the blanket and crossed her legs, wishing, for once, that they weren't so long. She wasn't used to being self-conscious, but something about Kyle made it all too easy. Like it was important to impress him, and wondering if she was good enough. "I love it."
He set the bag down and knelt to dig through it. "Good." The look he shot her was intense. "You deserve to have someone try to impress you."
She ducked her head, not sure what to think, having just wondered how to impress him. Seems like they were both trying too hard. "Not more than any other girl."
"True. Most girls deserve it, but it never happens." His voice was soft. "Which is why it's your turn."
"With you?" she asked, teasing. "Why, Kyle, I'm shocked."
He flushed. "That's, um, not exactly what I meant."
"It's okay. I know you've dated a lot of girls. And I am impressed." She reached out to brush a pink azalea petal with her fingertip, not sure what to think. Was she really special to him, or was this his way of pulling her into the Kyle Sawyer Mile-High Club? "But you don't have to make this kind of effort just for my sake. I know what the score is."
He turned away, unpacking little sandwiches, strawberries, and cookies from the bag. "And what's the score?"
She took a deep breath. This felt like a date, but she needed to know before she let herself believe it. "That we're in this scheme together. You don't have to pretend to be my boyfriend except when we need to put on a show. Isn't that what this is?" There, she'd said it. She wished she could take it back.
But she really wanted an answer
Chapter Twenty-One
Kyle
Faith's question felt like a fastball to the chest-crushing and knocking the wind out of him. He was trying so hard, and she thought he was playing a game? God, he just couldn't win. But he'd promised himself-and Grandpa-that he'd stick with it, and for once, he would.
"I brought you here because I thought you'd like it," he said quietly, trying to force the confusion out of his voice. "You've helped me work on the backyard and I wanted to say thank you."
There, that sounded neutral, right? Not Faith, you're the nicest girl I've met, and I want to kiss you for nine hours straight. Now that? That sounded desperate.
Faith's eyebrow raised. "Is that all?"
Damn, she called his bluff fast. "What else do you want it to be?"
She leaned back and turned her head toward the flowers. "I don't know. Not exactly."
He resumed unpacking their picnic, trying not to get his hopes up too far. "Neither do I. So I think maybe we should try to be friends, or whatever, just to see."
She faced him, and her cheeks were as pink as the Autumn Carnival azaleas behind her. "I'd like that. I could use a good friend right now."
"Me, too."
She nodded briskly. "So, dinner?"
"Dinner."
They ate mostly in silence, but he could tell that Faith was slowly thawing out. She kept looking around at all the plants. "So do you know what most of these are?" she finally asked.
"I know what all of them are," he said, willing her to look at him. "I volunteer here." He paused. "Please don't tell anyone that."
"Why not?"
His mouth opened and closed. She had no idea he wasn't exactly what she assumed, and he'd as much as announced it. "It's, um … people can be jerks about guys who like to work on yards."
"And you have a reputation to protect."
Her tone was far too knowing for comfort. Did she suspect? "Something like that. Anyway, what about you? I know you dance."
"And I sing." Her hands settled in her lap.
"Are you going to keep doing it after we graduate?"
"I hope so." She shrugged, but he could tell it cost her to act like she didn't care. "I applied to NYU. They have a great musical theater program. I'm waiting to hear back."
He nodded, trying not to make a big deal out of it, since she didn't seem to want to. Still, she must be crazy talented to even think about applying. "Good luck. And what about the musical at school?"
She laughed. "You know about that?"
"Fliers. At school." Thank God Vi had given him an out here. "You're Laurey?"
Faith's eyes lit up. "I'm surprised you'd know that, but yes. And it's the best role ever."
She chattered about the costumes, the music, and the story for a good ten minutes, before stopping abruptly. Talking about the performance made her light up. Her eyes were sparkling and she gestured around, pretending to point out things about the set. She looked kind of like he felt when he talked to the head horticulturalist at the arboretum: joyful. The theater was her garden, and he leaned in, listening. If this is what made her happy, he wanted to know about it.
Abruptly, she stopped, her cheeks pink. "Sorry. I kind of ran on there."
"I like listening to you," he said, before thinking.
She bit her lower lip. "No guy's ever said that to me before."
Kyle let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I'm not like other guys."
"No, you're not," she said, toying with a few loose azalea petals.
"Is that … a bad thing?" he asked.
"No." Faith gave him a brief smile. "That's not what I'm worrying about. I was just thinking about part of the musical. There could be a problem."
He scooted forward and touched her knee. When she didn't flinch or move away, he left his hand there. "What?"
"It's silly … but there's a lift in the ballet scene and my partner hasn't bothered to practice with me yet. I'm not sure if I can hold the pose. I'm worried I'll end up overshooting and toppling us both over."
Was that all? He gave her a quick, clinical looking-over-or so he tried to tell himself it was clinical and not outright ogling. She probably weighed a buck twenty-five. That was nothing. He hauled fifty pound bags of mulch, two at a time, all day. Surely her partner could lift her, but if she was worried about her part, how hard could it be to help her out?
Kyle pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. "Show me."
Now her cheeks went scarlet. "Oh, no, you don't have to … "
"If it's bugging you, I want to help." He gave her a quick once-over, and she ducked her head. The shyness was cute. "Tell me what to do."
She took a deep breath, then stepped in close and turned her back on him. He barely breathed as she reached for his hands and placed them on her hips. "On the count of three, I'm going to jump, and you're going to lift me to chest level. Turn in a slow circle, then bring me down."
"Sounds easy." Crap, did she hear his voice shake just then? "Let's do it."
She let out a surprised chuckle, but this time she didn't let her hand fly to her mouth. "Sorry. I have a problem with inappropriate laughter."
He grinned and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Not so inappropriate, given what I said. Now, you ready?"
"Yep." She stood up taller. "One … "
He tightened his hands on her hips, and he could've sworn she shivered. Her skin was warm through her jeans, and he knew he'd be sorry to let go.
"Two … "
Faith went up on her toes, the crown of her head reaching his forehead. Man, she was tall.
"Three!"
She dropped down suddenly, bending her knees outward, then she sprang up. He almost let go, surprised by the power of her vertical leap. She was so strong, he had to tighten his forearms and really hang on to keep from losing her. Between her momentum and the strength in his arms from baseball, he managed to lift her up so that her hips were level with his face.
Oh, holy shit. The view almost made him drop her.
It wasn't just that he was getting a very close, personal look, but the way she held her body, arms aloft, legs bent gracefully, back straight, made him skip a heartbeat or four. She was every bit as strong as any athlete he'd ever known, and ten times as graceful.
"Now turn!" Faith ordered.
Right, he needed to turn. He made it around, slowly, without dropping her, then lowered her to the ground. She came down balancing on her toes, despite wearing little canvas tennis shoes instead of ballet slippers, and spun in the circle of his arms to face him.